


Don't Mind, Don't Mind

by byesweetheart (ConstantComment)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Exhibitionism, Future Fic, Gym shorts, Hand Jobs, M/M, PWP, Public Hand Jobs, aggressively wandering hands, third year fic, tobio makes shouyou horny, winning makes tobio horny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 07:45:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9375023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConstantComment/pseuds/byesweetheart
Summary: Shouyou has always been aware that Kageyama gets riled up after a win. Very, very aware.While everyone else is practically knocked out from a match or, you know, four -- the team’s snores and silence palpable on the bus back home -- Shouyou’s heart races and he imagines he could run to Tokyo and back, and maybe after have go at a couple more rounds of spiking drills.And Kageyama... well.





	

**Author's Note:**

> At my high school, buses were a sort of weird, sexual-liminal space--where everyone turned into an exhibitionist on long rides. Other than that, I have no excuse for this. 
> 
> I've been obsessing over these two ever since the first episode and held off on the third season until this week. This is my first time writing smut for them. Please tell me what you think!

Shouyou has always been aware that Kageyama gets riled up after a win. Very, _very_ aware.

While everyone else is practically knocked out from a match or, you know, _four_ \-- the team’s snores and silence palpable on the bus back home -- Shouyou’s heart races and he imagines he could run to Tokyo and back, and maybe after have go at a couple more rounds of spiking drills.

And Kageyama... well.

They’re shoved together on the slightly sticky bus seat as usual, with Shouyou sprawled a little into Kageyama’s space as usual. Kageyama is pressed upright in the window seat, his head tilted toward the blurring road and flashing streetlights. He’s fidgeting. 

Shouyou watches him through half-lidded eyes.

It’s the same even after three years. Shouyou sees Kageyama’s fingers twitch against his thighs, sees him shift into a slouch and then correct himself without fail, like he can’t get comfortable. Like he wants to--needs to--move, but won’t. 

He jostles Shouyou a little as he readjusts, tugging on his shorts and knocking his head back against the seat. His bangs brush over his stupid, perfect frowning eyes as he looks up at the shiny, curved ceiling with a pained expression.

It's been barely five minutes when he moves again, knocking Shouyou's knee.

“Chill out, Kageyama,” Shouyou murmurs, head lolling toward him. He’s curious. He’s suspicious.

Kageyama’s answer is swift and gruff. “Shut up,” he hisses. His big hands white knuckle his knees, brushing up his legs, before he crosses his arms.

Shouyou just looks at Kageyama’s tensing thighs. He sprawls further and waits for passing headlights to illuminate the close, dark space. Can’t help it when his eyes drift to the vee of Kageyama’s shorts-covered legs, imagining the shape of vulnerable knees still slightly marked from knee pads, even if he can’t _really_ see much.

He’s almost lost interest when Kageyama makes a soft sound, and his hand moves from the tight pretzel of his arms. Shouyou moves quickly, hand slapping over Kageyama’s.

He’d planned on stopping him from tugging at his shorts, from fidgeting, from _whatever_ he’d planned on doing. He just wants Kageyama to _sit still_ so he can look at him in peace, but.

Kageyama’s hand is bunching in the fabric of his shorts, between his legs, over his dick. And Shouyou’s hand is on top of his, fingers slipped between Kageyama's and landing on warm, slightly slinky fabric.

Kageyama’s eyes snap open wide. And Shouyou’s mouth pops into a silent, _“Oh.”_

Kageyama’s hard. Warm and thick and did he mention _hard?_ And now they’re both frozen. Except for Kageyama’s dick, which gives a twitch as his body catches up to the situation.

Shouyou’s still stuck on his dick--with his hand on his dick--not--

Well.

“Hina--Hinata,” Kageyama stutters, grits through his teeth.

And Shouyou just... doesn’t let go. He gulps at the musty bus air and leans toward Kageyama. The bus slows at a stoplight, and Kageyama’s hair shines red in the light. He looks down at Shouyou, eyes heavy and mouth parted. Shouyou fans out his hand and slips it over Kageyama’s knuckles, fingers rubbing in one slow caress over the heat between his legs. 

So, this is what winning is like for Kageyama. 

Shouyou is weirdly into it.

He presses slow, back and forth, watching Kageyama closely. Kageyama's eyes flutter and his wide shoulders roll as he arches almost shyly into Shouyou’s hand. Shouyou is transfixed.

“You’re so...” he whispers on a breath, face dangerously close to Kageyama’s open mouth. “Oh my gosh, Kageyama.” Kageyama makes a noise somewhere in between a whimper and a grunt, and honestly it goes straight to the pit of Shouyou’s stomach. “Shh,” Shouyou murmurs, kneeling up onto the seat a little and reaching his other hand over to slip the fabric of those loose gym shorts up Kageyama’s strong leg. He dips his hand under the hem, brushes against coarse hair, warm, tense muscles, the soft skin of his inner thigh, then softer skin over hard, smooth heat. 

Kageyama squirms.

Because Shouyou’s favorite activity in the universe (outside of volleyball) is torturing Kageyama, he leans further into Kageyama’s space and traces the pad of his finger over the head of his dick.

It’s so crazy. Anyone could wake up around them and see them in the glow of the streetlights. But, Shouyou can’t bring himself to care, because Kageyama looks caught somewhere between pain and bliss and his mouth is slack and he’s glaring at Shouyou--or pleading silently, it’s hard to tell--as Shouyou ever so lightly rubs and circles the head of his dick with the tips of his fingers until he's fully hard and dripping, watching Kageyama bite his lip every times he twists to trace over the underside of the head. He’s done that to himself enough late at night under the covers to know how it sends jolts of of _too much_ and _please more_ through his body in equal measure.

His fingers are slicker with each second as Kageyama makes aborted twitches into his small hand, breath catching on every slow, exploratory pass of his fingers, every press against his slit and every blurt of precome over the soft-hard head. Shouyou locks eyes with him, and since Kageyama hasn’t thrown him out the window yet, he must really like that Shouyou enjoys torturing him so much. Their foreheads knock together, and that’s when Shouyou realizes Kageyama has listed toward him, legs spread obscenely in the cramped bench and knees digging into the leather of the seat in front of them. Shouyou kneels almost completely above him as the taller boy slips further against the seat. Their noses brush.

Kageyama’s skin smells clean like the generic soap provided in the locker room showers; his breath smells like lemon-lime sports drink, like he’d taste even sweeter. Shouyou swallows and glances toward Kageyama's lap, the odd shine of black fabric bunched over his shifting hand in the dark. He turns back to Kageyama’s frowning face, and their lips catch on each other, and then Kageyama’s almost crying out--

Shouyou swallows up the noise, covering Kageyama’s mouth with his own. His senses flood with Kageyama’s soft lips clumsily mouthing at him, tongue slipping out to devour.

He gives up on the torture after that. Ignoring Kageyama’s soft whimper of protest, he yanks his hand from under the shorts and shoves it instead under Kageyama’s waistband so he can reach everything he wants to. Gripping his slick fingers around the base of Kageyama’s dick, he pumps in long hard twists. He wants to wring it out of him. He wants him to come so hard he can’t move at all, can’t twitch or fidget or _walk_.

It doesn’t take long. Shouyou relentlessly works over Kageyama, and kisses him through his gasps. 

“C’mon,” he whispers, letting Kageyama nibble feebly at him with his wet mouth. He feels him harden almost impossibly, bites down on his lower lip instead of biting his own.

Kageyama coils tight as a spring around Shouyou’s curled hard. Shouyou can feel his abs and his arms and his shoulders tense, and hears him almost squeak as he comes, arching, legs shaking. Shouyou coaches him through it, humming softly as come dribbles over his knuckles and wets the dark, hot fabric around his fist.

Kageyama absolutely melts into the seat when Shouyou finally releases him, but his legs tremor every now and then with aftershocks. Kageyama tries to breathe quietly, and if Shouyou’s thudding heart is any indication, he’ll be trying to slow his breathing for a while.

After a moment, Kageyama slides a weak hand over Shouyou’s thigh, just inches from his own neglected hard-on. 

He hadn’t even noticed how worked up he was.

The light of someone’s phone a couple rows up jolts them out of their haze, and then someone coughs up near the driver’s seat.

Shouyou rests his clean hand over Kageyama’s and leans in for another lingering kiss against those probably very red, abused lips that have fallen back into their permanent scowl. Kageyama’s not put off enough to deny him another kiss, though.

“Don’t mind, don’t mind,” Shouyou murmurs into the kiss, and Kageyama huffs. He laces his fingers with Shouyou’s.

“Idiot,” Kageyama sighs.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading my story!
> 
> Come say hi on [Tumblr](http://byesweetheart.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/byesweetheart_)!


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